Out for Blond

by V. J. Chambers

  “Right. Good,” I said. “That fits. That makes him viable.”

  “But anyone might be nervous about that if they thought they were under suspicion,” said Brigit.

  “Under suspicion from a private detective? He wouldn’t care.”

  “You’re not just any private detective. You brought down Ralph the Hatchet.”

  Right. Ralph. That kept coming up. But the thing about Ralph was, I wasn’t sure if I deserved the credit or not. I’d stumbled onto Ralph, not hunted him down. If that was going to be my claim to fame, then it didn’t make me look very good.

  “Fabricating the motive is a red flag,” I said.

  “Yeah, you’re right.” She took a bite of her egg roll.

  “But,” I said, “this murder was committed by two people and I don’t have an accomplice for Braxton Whitney.”

  She pointed at me with the egg roll. “No. No, you don’t.”

  “But I don’t have an accomplice for Gunner either,” I said. “So, if that’s the only criteria we’re using for crossing someone off the suspect list, then…” I shrugged.

  “We need more information on Braxton.” Brigit ate the rest of the egg roll.

  I turned back to my sweet and sour chicken. She was right.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Is Mr. Whitney expecting you?” said Braxton Whitney’s doorman.

  “Well, not exactly,” I said. Brigit and I were standing in the doorway of Braxton Whitney’s house. We’d come back to ask him some more questions. It was early afternoon, and I didn’t see any reason why he wouldn’t be available to talk to us. I didn’t remember hearing about a job or anything. My understanding was that Braxton was one of the idle rich. That was why he had time to spy on the Clayton Society all day long.

  “But it’s important we talk to him,” said Brigit, smiling sweetly.

  The doorman opened up and led us into the foyer. “Wait here.” He disappeared up the steps.

  I gazed around at the lavish decor, thinking that the place seemed out of time. It was almost like Dracula’s castle or something, like being invited into the home of the monster. Place gave me the creeps.

  Brigit tapped her foot. She wasn’t looking around but staring down at the floor.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. I wondered how long it would take for the doorman to come back with Braxton.

  Brigit started to chew on her bottom lip, still staring down at the floor.

  I thought about asking her what she was looking at, but she seemed lost in thought. I uncrossed my arms. I looked back up at the steps, hoping that the doorman and Braxton would appear there together.

  But instead, I saw Violet Horne rushing down the stairs towards us. She was crying.

  “Ms. Horne,” I said. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  Brigit went to intercept her, taking her by the shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  Violet was sobbing. “It’s awful. It’s awful. I can’t stand it here anymore.”

  I could see another bruise, this one on her neck. It looked as if possibly someone had grabbed her by the neck and squeezed. I shuddered. “Ms. Horne, let’s get you out of here.”

  “But we needed to talk to Braxton,” said Brigit.

  “That can wait,” I said. I looked at Violet expectantly. “Yes?”

  She nodded through her tears. “Yes.”

  We piled Violet into the back of the car and went back into Renmawr, to a little coffee shop that I knew in the middle of town. I didn’t spend a lot of time there, because I usually got my coffee in Keene, but if I needed coffee while at work, it was my go-to place. The place had dim lighting—mood lighting, I guess. You could tuck into one of the booths in the back of the shop and feel like you’d disappeared from the world, enveloped in the warm smell of coffee and the cozy atmosphere.

  I thought Violet might appreciate feeling hidden.

  Once we got there, I got Brigit and Violet settled in a booth, and then I went to order us coffee. I decided to be as girly as possible, which isn’t generally my thing, but we needed to rely on the bonds of sisterhood to get Violet talking. So, I ordered sweet drinks with syrups and whipped cream and the whole shebang.

  When I brought them back to the table, Violet had broken out in fresh tears. “He’s horrible,” she was telling Brigit. “I can’t believe how horrible he is.”

  I handed her a coffee.

  “Oh,” she said, turning her tear-stained eyes to me. “Thanks. It’s even got whipped cream.”

  I slid in next to Brigit. “You’re saying Braxton is horrible?”

  “Yes,” said Violet. “When I first met him, you know, I thought that he was so great. He seemed like such an amazing man. He was rich, and he was handsome, and he had such presence.”

  Presence? That was a way of putting it, I supposed. The man exuded creepiness. I couldn’t believe she hadn’t felt it. Well, that wasn’t fair. I knew that abusers were often manipulative. It could be difficult to get a handle on them. When they wanted to, they could often mask their true nature.

  “But then,” Violet continued, “it was just like…” She broke down crying.

  I handed her a napkin. “He changed? He wasn’t the man you fell in love with?”

  She dabbed at her eyes, laughing helplessly. “It sounds cliche, doesn’t it?”

  “Well, cliche’s are cliche for a reason,” I said softly. “Men like him have been doing this same thing to women for all eternity.”

  Violet took a drink of her coffee. A little bit of whipped cream was on her lip, and her tongue darted out to lick it up. “He became so different. Just last week, he was going on about this human sacrifice ritual that Native Americans used to do. He knew all the details, and he seemed excited by it. I remember thinking that I didn’t know how I’d ended up with a man who liked things like that.”

  Ritual? Alarms went off in my head. “Native Americans? Could it have been the Ocapotactu by any chance?”

  “That’s right,” she said. “Why?”

  “Just curious,” I said. So Braxton liked the ritual, hmm? Curious.

  Violet closed her eyes for a long moment and then opened them. “I’m an idiot for ever being with him. He told me all the time how stupid I was, and he was right.”

  “No,” I said. “He was wrong. You aren’t stupid. He said those things to you to keep you where he wanted you.”

  “It’s true,” said Brigit. “It’s not just about physical violence with guys like him. The emotional stuff is much worse. He wanted to control you, and he said anything he could to undermine your confidence in yourself.”

  “Because that kept you malleable and under his thumb,” I said.

  Violet sniffled. “But why? Why did he want to do that to me?”

  “Oh, sweetie,” said Brigit. “Because he could.”

  Violet drew her eyebrows together.

  But I didn’t disagree with Brigit. Her assessment was pretty spot on. Abusers abused. Why they did it was a mystery. There was no clear motive for something so unreasonable. Of course, murder was often the same way. And unreasonable reaction to a bad situation.

  “He made me say those things to you,” she said. “But then I guess you know that.”

  “What things?” I said.

  “About the night that the girl was murdered. He made me say that we were together. He said that if I told you the truth, he’d make me sorry.”

  “He threatened you?” I said. “With physical violence?”

  She nodded. “He… he hurt me.”

  Brigit reached across the booth to clasp her hand.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “We’re going to get you help.”

  “That night,” said Violet, “the night the girl was killed?”

  “Yes?”

  “Well,” she said, “we went to a benefit. But he didn’t stay the whole time. He left early. I remember, because I had to take the car home all by myself, and that was unusual.”

  “Did he tell you where he went?”r />
  She shook her head. “No. No, he didn’t tell me anything.”

  * * *

  “Miles Pike,” said his voice on the phone.

  “Um, hi, Pike,” I said. “It’s Stern.” I was standing outside the coffee shop on my cell. Brigit was still inside with Violet. “I’m, uh, calling about work stuff.”

  “Oh?” he said. His voice was cold.

  We hadn’t spoken since that night. I hadn’t even let myself think about it. I didn’t know what it meant. We’d attempted to be intimate, and it hadn’t worked out. It was the story of my life when it came to Pike, though. We didn’t quite make it past first base. We never had, and I had made peace with the idea that we never would.

  So, I hadn’t let myself think about it.

  But now, I was listening to his voice, and I was remembering the way it had gotten kind of hoarse and ragged when we were close, and I’d never heard his voice do that before. And I was thinking about how nice it would be if things could actually work out between us. If we could have sex—

  But no, it was more complicated than that, and I’d realized the truth of that after the Ralph the Hatchet case. I needed to be able to have sex with more than one person. I wasn’t wired for monogamy. Even if Pike could… perform, he wouldn’t be enough for me.

  Of course, that was all theoretical, wasn’t it? Maybe I’d feel differently if we actually did have sex. And he was taking testosterone supplements. He obviously wanted to try. He’d made an effort here. That was important.

  Jesus, why hadn’t I called him before this? Why hadn’t I called him about us, not about some stupid case? Did I have some reason that I was sabotaging our one hope of ever—

  “Stern?” said Pike’s voice in my ear.

  “I need a favor,” I said. “I have a witness here, and she’s in need of a restraining order. It’s a classic domestic violence case.”

  “What do you need me for?” he said. “I work Homicide, or have you forgotten?”

  “You know how the guys in the department feel about me,” I said. “They’d never cooperate if I brought her in, and I don’t want to leave her alone. Poor thing is scared witless.”

  He sighed. “Yeah, okay, I guess I can help you out.”

  “Thank you so much,” I said. “Um, I also need to find someplace for her to stay. She can’t go back to her boyfriend, obviously. I’d let her stay with me, but I don’t have a guest room. I’d like to find her a place with an actual bed, if you know what I mean.”

  “You should talk to Beth Anthony,” he said.

  “Beth Anthony that runs the Station in town?”

  “The very one.”

  “This isn’t a kid, Pike. She’s a grown woman. I don’t think the children’s shelter’s going to cut it. Besides, they don’t hold beds there. It’s first come, first served.”

  “No, I know that,” he said, “but Beth also works with a network that places abused women. They stay in various homes and shelters, but no one knows where those places are except the heads of organization. That way, it’s harder for the abusers to find the women again.”

  “Oh,” I said. “That’s good. It makes sense.”

  “Right,” he said. “Otherwise, you’d have men breaking into the shelters and dragging women back into bad situations.”

  “Or worse,” I said. “Killing them.”

  “Definitely,” he said.

  We were quiet.

  I wanted to say something to him, to find some way to bring up our relationship, to make it so that we could talk about that. But I didn’t know how.

  “Is that all?” he asked. His voice was still cold.

  “Look, Pike, I should have called earlier, but the truth is that I just didn’t know—”

  “Called earlier about this witness?” he said. “Why, you been sitting with her for a while?”

  “You know that’s not what I meant,” I said.

  “We don’t have to do that right now,” he said quietly. “In fact, we don’t ever have to do that. I’d be happy enough never talking about the last time we saw each other.”

  “Pike, we have to talk about it.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  I struggled for words. “You know that—”

  “Just stop.” And there was desperation in his voice.

  I stopped. “Okay, well, then, I guess that’s all.” But I felt like I was giving up on something important. I didn’t want to give up.

  “Good,” he said. “I’ll let you know about the restraining order.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Have a good day.” He hung up.

  I looked down at the phone in my hand, and my stomach turned itself into knots. Damn it.

  * * *

  Violet wasn’t keen on the idea of going to the Station, because she wasn’t homeless or dirty or a thief or a teenager. But we convinced her that it would be better to be there than to be back with Braxton, enduring his abuse, and she agreed. The three of us waited outside of Beth Anthony’s office to see her again.

  When Beth came out to see us, she held up a finger, signaling one minute. Then she disappeared back inside.

  Brigit shot me a confused look.

  I shrugged. I didn’t know why she’d done it. I assumed that she had something she needed to take care of and that she would only take a minute with it.

  Beth reappeared. “She’s on her way.”

  I drew my eyebrows together. “Who is?”

  “Adeline Rollins,” said Beth. “The last time you were here you wanted to see her, but she wasn’t around. Well, she is today, so I called to have her sent up.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Well, we were actually here about something else, but that’s good. I’d like to talk to Adeline.” Tie up another loose end, cover another base. Who knows? Maybe Adeline knew something about Braxton Whitney.

  “Something else?” said Beth.

  “This is stupid,” said Violet. “We don’t have to—”

  “Don’t be silly,” I said. “Look, I was referred here to you, Beth. Apparently, you’re the person to talk to about finding a place for a woman who’d rather not be bothered by a boyfriend who likes to communicate with his fists?”

  “Oh,” said Beth. “Yes, yes I am.”

  “He doesn’t hit me,” said Violet, looking back and forth between us. “He hurts me sometimes, but he doesn’t hit me.”

  “It doesn’t matter how he hurts you,” said Beth. “Why don’t you all come into my office?”

  But at that moment, a tall teenage girl with stringy black hair appeared at the end of the hallway.

  Beth turned to look at her. “Oh, that’s Adeline.”

  “Look,” I said, “Brigit, you go with Violet and Beth. I’ll talk to Adeline.”

  Brigit nodded, and the three went into Beth’s office. I went down the hall to intercept Adeline. She looked a little unsure of herself.

  I offered her my hand. “Hi there. I’m Ivy Stern. I wanted to ask you a few questions about the Clayton Society.”

  “That place?” Adeline took my hand gingerly. “I’m not there anymore.”

  “No, I know,” I said. “I’m looking into the murder of Tess Carver, which happened on the farm. I don’t know if you heard about that or not.”

  “Sure, I guess.” She backed away from me until she ran into the wall. She stayed there, letting her hair fall in her face.

  “Well, um…” What did I want to ask her?

  “I hated that place, okay?” she said. “I know that Stella thinks it’s great there, but she’s just playing at being there, you know? She could go home anytime. She’s got a family. Her mom’s not exactly there for her or anything, but she has a trailer out by the interstate, and Stella could crash there anytime she wants. So, it’s not real for her, you know?”

  I remembered Stella, the one who was delusional about Gunner, who had a crush on him. She and Adeline were friends, as I recalled.

  I held up both hands. “Hey, I’m not here to gi
ve you a hard time. I just want to know some things about the farm. You don’t have to feel defensive.”

  She let out a noisy breath, eyeing me warily. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Why didn’t you like it there?”

  “I just didn’t.”

  “Do you remember seeing the Zion’s People on the farm ever? They’re a religious group who want to shut down the Clayton Society.”

  “Oh, sure,” she said. “Especially that creepy guy. What was his name? Braxel or something?”

  “Braxton,” I said. “Braxton Whitney. You remember him?” She thought he was creepy too! That wasn’t evidence or anything, but it sure wasn’t a rousing assessment of Braxton.

  “He was always there,” she said. “I remember him listening in on all those talks that Gunner gave.”

  “The talks about the Ocpotactu? About their practice of human sacrifice?”

  She shuddered. “Yeah, those.” She twisted her hands together. “Look, are we done yet?”

  “Did Braxton ever speak to you personally?”

  “No,” she said. “I don’t think so. But I don’t know why you’re so interested in that guy. Those Zion’s People had it right, you know? That place should be shut down.”

  “Because of the murder?”

  “Well, that, I guess, but because of the other stuff, too. They act like they’re you’re friends, you know? But they aren’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s all about the Clayton Society there,” she said. “Everything you do is about the good of the Society. But what they don’t tell you is that the good of the Society is really the good of Gunner. It’s all about him. He’s got all those people doing his bidding. And he’s nothing more than a pervert.”

  “Pervert?” I was surprised. “Did Gunner ever do anything to you that you didn’t—”

  “Oh, not me,” she said. “He was always real careful not to break any laws, you know, so he wasn’t with any of the underage girls. But practically everyone else is fair game. Name a woman that lives there, and he’s slept with her once or twice.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “All of them?”

  “What? You don’t believe me?”